Bella Swan at Hogwarts!
by massivefaildrive
Summary: To protect her from the Volturis, Edward sends Bella to Hogwarts, where one of his cousins is enrolled. Happens during trio's fifth year - and Twilight book.
1. Chapter 1

_Chapter One, Where Bella meets everyone important_

"What an awful wreck," murmured Bella to herself, boarding the red Hogwarts Express.

She was already missing Edward. To protect her from the Volturis, he sent her off to some lame British boarding school, where one of his cousins was enrolled in the fifth year – the year that Bella was going to attend. At first, they had wanted to put her in with the first years, but, as she was too big, they though it'd be too conspicuous. At second, they considered a teaching position – but, it seemed, the DADA position had already been filled, and there were no others available. Therefore, they decided to put her with Edward's cousin's class – just to be safe.

She stepped into the crowded corridor, eyes darting around the unfamiliar surroundings. Students scurried past her, paying her no mind. Everyone looked the same – and everyone talked different. Her converse-clod feet carried her past full compartments, her eyes looking for people that looked even remotely like Edward. But everyone was impossibly unlike him. Where WAS this cousin?

When Edward suggested a teaching position, Bella said she didn't want to teach. She didn't know what to teach. But now that she saw the three students sitting in the only half-empty compartment, she knew immediately what she'd teach if she had to: the red-haired snot-nosed boy could benefit from some basic rules of hygiene; the black-haired boy clearly needed surgery on that awful thing on his forehead; and the girl, oh, the frizzy-haired girl! Bella would have taken out her own hairbrush right there and then and set it to work on that awful mop of wool, had she not been afraid that she would break it against the thick, interwoven tresses.

She sneered and looked around – but all other compartments were full. She had no choice, and had to sit with those ugly, apparently stupid people.

Sliding the door open, Bella said, "Um, hi. Can I come in?"

The three immediately halted their conversation and glanced at the newcomer. The black-haired boy – evidently the ring-leader of this squad of idiots – replied, "Sure!"

She nodded with a forced smile and scuttled inside, bringing her suitcase behind her and settling down next to the repulsive ginger. "Hi."

He looked away, "Hi."

Bella was almost thankful that they didn't talk to her. They didn't look like the sort of people she'd consider interesting and fun – and they were certain to be freaked out by her American accent. British people, she thought, must be.

The frizzy-haired girl, however, broke her hopeful illusion and opened her gob. "Hello! I don't think we've seen you before. Are you a first year?"

Bella looked her up and down, trying to figure out whether she was joking or just stupid. "No, no. I'm new here. I'm in grade – YEAR five."

"Oh, then you're with us," the girl replied chirpily. "I'm Hermione Granger. This is Harry" – pointing to the scarred youth – "and this is Ron."

"Oh," she replied, completely uninterested but feigning it quite well. "I'm Isabella Swan. But you can call me Bella."

"Welcome to Hogwarts, Bella. Are you American?"

_That's it. It starts here._ "Ye-es," she stuttered with mistrust.

"Neat!" exclaimed the ginger. "I've always wanted to go to America! They say they don't have purebloods there!"

Bella twitched at the word 'blood'. "What?"

"Ron…" Hermione Granger shook her head disdainfully. "My parents go to a conference in Boston every year. They're dentists. I'm a muggle-born – as, I guess, are you."

Bella stared at her with open eyes. What _is_ this thing?

"Did you know," the girl continued. "I heard that there's another American student this year. Also in our year."

"Oh, that's nice," Bella responded, brightening considerably. Maybe Edward sent Alice along, or something. Oh, how she wished he was here. She didn't feel at all comfortable. She hated Forks, but this place brought homesickness right to a whole new level.


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter Two, where Bella meets more important people_

Upon arriving at the station, Bella took leave of her three new 'friends'. She watched them go with happiness – she wanted to be alone.

It was dark, and the lights, enclosed within archaic glass lanterns, cast garish shadows over the student body, moving as one organism away from the red steaming giant. She brushed her long brown hair away from her face and straightened out her black school robes – they itched and scratched in every possible place, and she wondered why they had to wear them anyway. Everyone here seemed so innocent – they hardly looked like the type to wear a bikini top to school.

Everyone seemed to be moving towards many, many carriages situated in the darkness of the brooding forest, and Bella moved with them, searching the crowds for Edward's cousin. She didn't know how he looked - she didn't even know his name. All Edward told her was that she'd know him when she saw him – and, in the darkness, Bella thought, it'd be easier to notice the shine of his skin.

Suddenly, a large, hairy arm came in front of her, and a voice boomed, "Stop there, young 'un! You must be Isabella Swan. Come."

Bella looked up and saw the face of a giant, fat man, brimmed in every direction with coarse black hair. She frowned. Didn't wizards have hairbrushes?

"'Ello. My name's Rubeus 'Agrid. 'Eadmaster Dumbledore said you's be coming up. Come." He repeated, and led her away from the crowd, towards another crowd – of considerably shorter people.

Bella looked back longingly, and cursed herself for being so unfriendly. She didn't feel comfortable, and she was worried, and she missed Edward so much that her intestines knotted together into an intricate quilt, and those three were so unfeeling for not noticing it – but she wished she could've stayed with them. This man looked like her father. And anyone that looked like her father was unpleasant to her.

As they got closer to the crowd, Bella saw that she was going to be surrounded by teeny-weeny prepubescent girls and boys. She was about to howl with rage. First the move, then the awful company on the train ride, and now this? Horrible.

"Why do I go with the little kids?" she inquired sternly.

"You need to be sorted, 'ight? Well, so do 'ey," Hagrid replied with a smile. A smile so big it almost made Bella like him – but, no. Not until he proves himself.

He led her to the wide wooden pier – for it was at the foot of a big, black lake that the congregation congregated – and helped her into one of the wide, sleekly black gondolas that awaited at the water's edge. Hagrid smiled and held onto her hand for a moment before going back to help another child get on. Bella flushed. He might be ugly, but he is a gentleman.

She turned away from the hard, real ground and looked out into the moonlit lake. Swirls of moonshine glided like water bugs over the mirror-smooth surface of the lake, interrupted only partially by the long, garish shadows of the lanterns that shone from the noses of boats. An owl hooted languidly from the murky insides of the pine forest that stretched far and wide, like the shadow of a dragon, across the land. The half-full moon soared above and dived into the woody massifs. Bella dreamed of Edward, imagining his smile and his moon-like gaze and fine, marble skin.

"We're off!" a thundering voice broke through her dream, and the gondolas twitched, all as one, and began to move, unrowed, untowed by anyone visible, through the water. Swiftly, as sharks, they glided along the lake, carrying the students within them. Bella opened her heart to the beauty and closed her ears to the excited, nauseous chattering of her co-passengers. The burning windows of the majestic Scottish castle drew closer and closer, and she dreaded the coming of it – and at the same time was attracted by it, like a moth to a flame.

At last, they disembarked on the opposite bank, and followed a path up to the front gates. Bella drew her robes closer around her. Phoenix was hot, Forks was cold, but England was freezing. And dark. And Edward-less. She followed the crowd listlessly as they entered, and listened through an old woman's speech, never listening, as her eyes scanned the unfamiliar beauty.

Hogwarts was like Edward: exotic, ostentatious, refined, chilling, incandescent and scintillating, incomparably beautiful, even a bit intimidating, but, all the same, so _warm_. The stone was marble, and sculpted like Edward's chest, the floor was clear, and reflecting the golden light of candles – or was it, his eyes? – and the ceiling, as she saw when the woman finished and they entered the 'Great Hall', was a choir of diamond-bright, brilliant fires, inert in the stale, homely air above their heads.

They stopped and Bella watched the room over the small heads of the others. There, in front of her, sat an old, tatty hat on a stool – but she looked beyond that, at the tall, long-bearded ancient that stood behind a golden stand and dictated in a loud voice. His eyes twinkled and his teeth were white as snow, white as the hair that fell over his glorious golden robes. His voice was smooth and chocolatey, and her heart fluttered with his every word.

She looked down the table, taking in the faces: there were old faces and young-ish faces, and middle-aged faces, and everyone looked serious, and happy, and envisioned at the same time. There was frizzy hair and well-kept hair and… oily hair?

She studied that man as well. His eyes were dark and deep as tunnels, and his face was finely sculpted and angular, like a hyperbolic representation of classic sculpture. He frowned, but she knew he was a kind man within – she could see it in his deep black eyes, that sparkled of sleek silver in the light of candles, as brilliant as his pallid skin. Bella sighed. He must be Edward's cousin.

"SWAN, ISABELLA!"

Her hearing picked up and she looked around, alarmed. A good two thirds of the crowd were already gone, and the old woman was looking straight at her, the tatty hat in her hands. Fighting her urge to run away from the hat and its centuries-old lice, Isabella Swan took a step forward, then another, then another, until she finally sat down on the stool and felt the hat flop down onto her ears.

"_Ah"_ it said.

Bella gulped.

"_Not used to talking hats? I understand you, dear lady. You must be muggle-born… But, oh, not quite."_

Bella didn't know what he meant by that, but hoped that he didn't mean Edward. Edward, he was only hers. She didn't want some stupid hat thinking about him.

"_You miss your man, don't you? Poor thing. You're very… loyal to him, aren't you?"_

Bella gulped.

"_Well, that seems like the only choice anyway. You're very… original, Bella Swan. Quite unsortable. You don't quite.. fit any of the categories we've got here… Let's see… No, I can't put you in Gryffindor – hah! Might as well put you in Ravenclaw, or, God forbid, Slytherin! You're not very much like a Hufflepuff either… You know, I've never gotten anyone so.. unsortable before. But, we must try, we must try…. HUFFLEPUFF!"_

Bella stood up and looked around. The tables were clapping eagerly, obviously happy about something. She hunched her shoulders and walked off stage, thinking that she must've done something wrong – but, a tiny part of her hoped that it was because they all liked her, every single one of them.

There it was, the table with the yellow flag labeled 'Hufflepuff'. Bella trotted towards there, wondering if the beaver drawn on the flag was its mascot and if somebody dressed up in a beaver costume during Quidditch matches. She hoped she would never have to do that.

The far end of the table was filled, and at this end, everyone was at least a head shorter than her. Bella didn't want to sit with middle-schoolers. She didn't want their immature questions and their point-and-laugh policy. It was bad enough having to be in a class with fifteen-year-olds.

Someone waved at her, and she looked up. There was one person in the sea of littlies that looked as mature and grown-up as her – and not in an exactly good sense.

The girl was immensely, horribly fat – probably obese – and her hair was as dark as espresso. Her dark brown hair, interwoven with pieces of multi-coloured string to make many, many African plaits, was pulled up in a round bun on the top of her head, and her robes cascaded over her full body, revealing under them a yellow t-shirt with 'Miami' written over it in big, glittery letters. Her big chocolate-and-cinnamon eyes shone under their thick long eyelashes, and her fat rosy lips charted a Hollywood smile over her pudgy cheeks.

"Hey!" the girl called.

Bella smiled. She was American, that girl, definitely. It was so nice to meet a fellow American in this snobby place. Moreover, she'd certainly appear to advantage against _that_ background.

"Hello," she replied, scooting over.

"Hi!" said the girl. "I heard you from Phoenix. I got cousins living in Phoenix. I myself am from Borneo."

"Borneo?" Bella replied cautiously. "Is that.. in Alaska?"

"Heh, no!" the girl laughed loudly, her smile widening to face-splittering sizes. "Borneo's an island in Oceania! I been flying to my aunt in New Zealand when the plane crashed and I landed on Borneo. I was the only one that survived – yeah, my parents died in the crash, and so did everyone else – so I didn't get to play _Lost_, but, hey, the natives liked me! Look what they made me – this thing's only for shamans of the tribe!"

A pudgy digit pointed to the girl's wide nostrils and Bella saw that a big diamond pin was nailed through the left one.

"It's a real rose diamond. Worth more than my sorry ass. You see, while I was at Borneo, I replaced the tribe's shaman and healed people – that's my gift – until a National Geographic expedition came along and took me back to 'Merica. That's when I got my letter – cos I been on that island since I was ten, girrrl. So, when I got my letter, I went straight over here, but they put me in year five instead of year seven, though I'm actually seventeen. The name, by the way, is Natasha Grace Queen Latifah Yousuf. What's yours?"

Bella smiled, a bit tacken aback by the girl's boldness. "I'm Isabella Swan. I'm seventeen too. I'm… sorry. About your parents."

"O, it's fine!" Natasha laughed, shrugging. "They in a better place now. Why you new?"

"Oh…" Bella began, not knowing whether she should trust the girl. "I got in trouble back in Forks-"

"With a man? Girl, I tell you – men, they're no good. You know, we had one Kiko in our tribe, and he had a young wife and three kids, and he fished and he went hunting and he sat around the fire with the men after work, and his wife, she bring him his breakfast in bed, and his kids, they be running around him screaming through the whole jungle, and, guess what, when the National Geographers came, he went off and married Steve the cameraman and went to live with him in LA. You believe in true love after that? Heh, you'd be stupid to."

Bella smiled curtly, "Oh.. Quite."


End file.
